


Chains

by Amable



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 06:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amable/pseuds/Amable
Summary: After a meeting with Danarius, Dorian is taken to places in his heart he'd never expected to be.





	1. A Fateful Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: This story has sexual slavery in it. But since it's not the basis of the story nor included as a kink, I'm putting the warning here instead of in the tags, so people don't get the wrong idea.

Folding his arms across his robed chest, Dorian had to bite back a sigh at the look on Magister Danarius’ face.  Instead, he plastered a like-smile onto his own clean-shaven face. 

Barely out of his teenage years, decades away from being a magister himself if he’d actually been willing to take on such a position at that point, the young mage apprentice wasn’t the man the magister had wanted to see.  As such, Dorian could already see the whole conversation pass before his eyes. 

Why Alexius sent him on these foolhardy ‘missions’, he didn’t know.  Well, he did know why, namely morbid curiosity.  But why did Alexius agree to such meetings when he had no intention of coming in the first place?

Of course, why would Alexius come himself to such pointless diversions when he had Dorian to sacrifice in his place, the suave, social-climbing diplomat Dorian had been trained by his father to be. 

Never mind he couldn’t convince his own father of a single thing. 

Others well...  Convincing them wasn’t quite so difficult.

Then again, maybe Alexius was laughing it up at that very moment with visions of this encounter...  Alexius and Danarius had never been even remotely friends, not with the warmongering stick Danarius had far up his ass. 

With gritted teeth, this was the last calling he’d make, Dorian decided.  Not for the first time.

Dorian let a slight hiss slip through his teeth.

“Welcome to my home.  I’m honored you’ve accepted my invitation, Scion of House Pavus,” Danarius stated with a hand swinging towards a finely woven and expensive couch in clear invitation. 

In the simple, welcoming words, Dorian heard all the sarcasm in the world and wondered how much of the rumors the magister had heard.  Enough to make the whole encounter uncomfortable on Dorian’s end, he had to assume.  But, in the dance of corrupt and power-hungry politics, such words were nonetheless never spoken directly to one’s face.  Not even spoken by Dorian’s own father, words probably well-deserved by the grace of Dorian’s lack of commitment.  Such a lack was the last thing his father wanted to admit to, even to himself.

...Then again, perhaps assuming the family title of magister wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, if only to wipe the smugness off these asshole’s faces when he did everything his father had ever dreamed Dorian would do.

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Magister Danarius,” Dorian said with a humorless smile as he walked past the other man who nearly matched his height.

After both men had been seated, Danarius had no problem letting out a sigh.  “I suppose we should get right to the point and save us both our time.”

At that, Dorian found himself smiling a real smile.  At least they could agree on that since they would probably agree on nothing else.

“As you may know, my primary research revolves around the applications of lyrium. It’s no secret that I’ve recently succeeded in revitalizing the technique found in the treatise.” 

Danarius flicked up a hand that had been resting on the plush armrest of the chair.  On que, a man, no, an elven slave, stepped forward, carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses.  The wine, the disgustingly expensive stuff that it was, failed to grab any of Dorian’s attention.  Rather, it was a white-haired elf that filled his mind, for more than one reason. 

So, it was true, Danarius had indeed succeeded in rediscovering the ancient technique of imbedding lyrium into the skin.  Dorian found the idea of it both intriguing and outright cruel, not only for the barer but also for the masses.  Being faced with the embodiment of it though and on the skin of this elven slave and the fact that the elf had survived the process at all...

The moment their eyes met, Dorian witnessed a hardening of the elf’s features, though the prior hardness was difficult to top.  Had the elf been stone, there wouldn’t have been much difference. 

So much anger and hatred directed solely at him...  Dorian couldn’t help but take an instinctive mental step back to gauge the chance of a fight, his heart quickening as adrenaline surged. He had no doubt in his mind that the elf would kill him, or at least attempt to, had Danarius ordered him to.  Like every other slave Dorian had ever been in the presence of, at least of those born into slavery, this elf clearly loved his master and would do anything for him.

Seemingly oblivious to the exchange as the elf set the tray down and began pouring them glasses of wine, Danarius said, “Your master’s work, however, I’ve heard rumors that...”

That was about all Dorian heard as Danarius blabbered on, before all Dorian’s attention went back on the elf.  He found his brain cataloging the elf’s every moment, every feature, every emotion or lack thereof.  Automatically, he accepted the goblet handed to him without taking his eyes off the slave. 

All his attention stayed there until he heard a loud clearing of a throat.  Dorian pealed his attention away from the slave and forced it back onto the other human in the room.  The smile he saw on Danarius’ face...

Dorian had no doubt then that Danarius had heard _that_ particular rumor.

“You lack fear, Scion of House Pavus.  I find that... refreshing.” The words had Dorian opening his mouth but before he could respond, Danarius continued with, “I greatly apologize but I must cut our meeting short.  However, since you journeyed all this way, please, feel free to refreshen yourself.  Stay the night if you wish.  My Fenris will accompany you and see that you have everything you need.”  Such an offer often accompanied the buying of a future favor, as Dorian was well aware.

There was no need to put innuendo on any word.  It was well known what magisters did behind closed doors, from blood magic to sex with their slaves that sometimes brought the unlucky elves close to their deaths.  No, such things weren’t spoken of out in public.  Behind closed doors or dripping from drunken lips, on the other hand...  Dorian had more than enough mental images he would have paid a fortune to get rid of had the process not been so laden with risks.

So much for ruling the conversation in Alexius’ stead...  Dorian was given no chance to accept or reject the gift as Danarius promptly stood and walked out the far door.  Going the opposite way, the elf was already walking away as well, clearly expecting Dorian to follow. 

 _How many people have followed this elf_ , was the first thought to pop into his head.  Probably too many.  Or perhaps none.  It was absurd to want to ask for the truth and he knew that but that didn’t stop the question.

After a look back at the large entryway Danarius had left from that led to the expanse of his inner house, Dorian downed the familiar flavor of the wine, set the goblet down and followed after the elf, though not with the intention of following him to any room.  Rather, the front door was that way.

This trip had been pointless, though that was his own fault.  But really, anything Danarius could have said, Alexius probably already knew.  If Alexius had really been that interested in or concerned about the magister, he would have come himself.

“No more favors for that man...”  Dorian growled under his breath but already knew it was a lie.  Dancing in the game was necessary, even as outcasted as Dorian was, though he’d managed to squander this opportunity.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time he’d done that.

A moment later, Dorian found himself staring after the elf who opened a far door and walked inside.  Dorian himself took a few more steps and stopped at the large carved doors that allowed entry into the estate.  A guard opened it for him but, for some absurd reason, he found himself still staring at the open door far down a high ceiling hallway.

“What would you do?” Dorian asked the guard without looking at him, not expecting an answer and not getting one.

Damn his curiosity, his hormones...  The vison of the elf’s cold, hating, beautiful face pooled in his mind again, in his groin.  Would the lyrium burn between them, burn them?  What could the elf do with the rumored abilities it gave him?  What would the elf do to him?  What could Dorian do back and survive? 

...Probably not much, considering the elf already hated him.  Such a notion and the promise of an easy death should have sent him out the door, but his feet wouldn’t move in that direction.

Had he always had a death wish?  Probably.  But where was the excitement without one?  He blamed his father for that particular craving. 

...Was there anything he didn’t blame on his father?  Maybe.  Yeah, actually.  His father had never wanted him to only desire other men.

Suddenly turned off with thoughts of his father and not ready to start a sexual escapade with this elven slave, no matter how tempting, because he simply wasn’t ready to be hated even more, even if that hate merely came from a slave, Dorian walked out of the door into the light of the hot afternoon sun and didn’t look back.


	2. Misunderstandings

While it was true Dorian never looked back, it would have been a gross misstatement to say that the elven slave didn’t take over his mind to an extent that bordered on obsession.  Fenris, the elf’s apparent name, dwelled inside that black cavern, in fact, like a cesspool of immoral and vaguely moral thoughts. 

Dorian tired his best resist the temptation of the immoral thoughts, lest they go down inside his pants under his robe, and instead dwelled on his failed mission into Danarius’ affairs.

No, he hadn’t managed to glean one bit of useful information off the man, outside of the fact that the lyrium cladded slave actually existed.  And that was beyond Dorian’s own fault.

If that elf hadn’t simply been the embodiment of everything he was looking for in a sexual partner, from his brooding beauty to his barely concealed passion...  Granted, the passion was hate driven, but no other person came to mind who could sustain such hate for such a long period of time, especially with such little provocation. If only the elf had a deep, brooding voice to go with the package, one that made his blood tingle with delight... But he wouldn't know that either way since the elf had never bothered to speak a word.

The thought tiptoed into his mind that perhaps he was seeking out his father in this slave, but he threw the thought out.  After all, what could a slave and a magister really have in common outside of wanting to wipe him off the face of the world like he was a pile of dog shit? 

Dorian sighed as the urged the horse into a canter.  “I would have been more useful sticking my head in the privy for the day...”

Soon enough, he came to the inn he’d taken up for the next couple of days.  Danarius had been his first stop.  The rest of his time here, he planned on touring the great libraries and halls in Minrathous, instead of the Qunari debate he’d originally planned on attending, before he returned to Alexius’ estate in Asariel. 

He couldn’t return home completely emptyhanded after all.  Alexius would never let him live it down.  The magister had brought Dorian into his home to assist with his research, to break the boundaries of magic itself, to follow the occasional lead, not to find a new home for his cock.  Not even a year ago, so routinely drunk it was amazing he hadn’t drowned in his own vomit yet, Dorian had done far more than his fair share of cock-sheathing in the local brothels when Alexius had found him, after all.  He didn’t need to start again with this slave.

...Of course, Alexius had his wife.  Could Dorian really be expected to keep up a life of celibacy for years to come?  Surely not.  Surely-

Dorian growled at himself and jumped off his horse, giving the reigns to the stableman.  If he was going to make it a goal to look for eligible cocks and holes, it wouldn’t be this day.  Perhaps he’d tell Alexius when he returned that he planned to take a few days off.  ...And he could already see Alexius’ face at the suggestion of such a thing. 

Saving himself a sigh, he entered his room, walked directly to the servant room that resembled a closet, and wasn’t surprised to see the elf there, patiently waiting for him, though he did stand when Dorian entered the room.  “Take a message to the magister.  Tell him I’ve come across no new information, outside of the fact that this elf does indeed exist.”  He left it at that.  What else could he say without sounding completely incompetent?  “You may remain there.  No need to return to this forsaken hole.  I’ll be home in a couple of days, as planned.”

The slave nodded before gathering up his couple of things into a bag, saying, “Yes, Master Pavus.” 

Dorian stepped aside to let the elf through and then mentally gathered himself up and walked back out the door.  He only had a few hours before the places he intended to go started shuttering their doors to strangers that night.  He intended to make the best of what he had left.

During that time, he garnered basically nothing.  Apparently, Danarius had the only surviving copy of the treatise and the librarians and scholars knew of no other mentions of such magic.  The closest he could come was in a similar imbuing of the body that didn’t use lyrium.  It apparently had far weaker results, at least in theory, if he was to gauge by reading alone.  But, still, perhaps the information would prove useful to Alexius, even if only a little bit.  He memorized everything he thought could be even remotely useful.

The mage continued that course until the stern library head ordered him out the door, gently.  He was a Scion of House Pavus, a future magister, after all.  His face wasn’t exactly unknown in Minrathous, not after parading into and being promptly kicked out of many magical institutions throughout his youth.

When he finally arrived back at the inn, he nearly slipped on the letter on the floor.  Cursing to himself, he picked the thing up, instantly recognizing Alexius’ handwriting, chicken scratch he’d been deciphering for months with more than one admittance of failure.  He didn’t hesitate in opening it.  Waiting for the inevitable...  It’d never been his thing. 

With considerable deciphering, Dorian decided the chicken scratch said:

> Dorian,
> 
> Apparently, I should have spoken more frankly, but you know I cannot speak of such matters in front of Livia.  Her single-mindedness knows no equal.  She would not see the value in learning about such an archaic and, quite frankly, appalling procedure. 
> 
> Honestly Dorian, I thought you would understand without me spelling it out.  I should have pulled you aside to make my intentions clearer.  I only sent you because it’s what I’ve always done.  I couldn’t allow this meeting to appear out of the ordinary. 
> 
> But never mind that.  Hopefully no damage has been done with Danarius.
> 
> I need you to return to Danarius’ estate.  Beg to be let back inside, if you must.  Find out the limits of this infusion and what this elf can do, any abilities he’s acquired.  Uncover any weaknesses.  Has the process physically harmed him?  Does he suffer from any ailments, like headaches, pain, thirst? Is he showing signs of paranoia, dementia?  Does he have any sanity left? 
> 
> Our only godsend at this point is the fact that lyrium is so rare, but only because it’s so dangerous.  Find out all you can and return home with your findings.

“Damn it, Alexius...” Dorian hissed.  Apparently, he hadn’t mistaken the uncharacteristic but subvert urgency in Alexius’ voice the other day. 

Now he had to find a way to get back into Danarius’ estate after he’d more or less insulted the man by not partaking of the gift of a bed for the night and an elven slave Dorian had been ogling with no sense of decency. 

Well he’d done harder things.  Right?


End file.
